Hyrule Civil War
by pyre85
Summary: This is but one of the legends of which the people speak. When a desert king first turned his gaze to the green fields of Hyrule. Of a time when civil war threatened to consume that fertile land. Of great and terrible dark margics defeated, and darker still waiting to strike.
1. Chapter 1

Always, the winds bring death.

By day a blistering inferno, By night a frozen wasteland. The storm raged on eternal in the wastes, surging out to ravage those who dwelled in the sands. They said the Sand Goddess herself called the storm into being to safeguard her temple, hiding it from all but her children the Gerudo. They revered her, thanked her for every day they drew breath, prayed for shelter from the storm. Even in the very heart of their fortress the wind shrieked and howled, a demon loosed.

Ganon stood before her temple now. The pilgrimage was a right of passage, to make it through the shifting sands and blinding winds marking his coming of age. Blindfolded and alone, he'd instead let his power flow forth, bringing true sight. With it he could see the gathered spirits of his tribe, here to witness his ascension. He walked among them, listened to them whisper as they recognized one of their kin. The greatest of them rattled its chains, cackling as it beckoned, holding it's lantern high and leading him through the tempest.

A hundred feet The Sand Goddess towered, looking over the desert with a passive serenity. His fist clenched at her benign repose. Her people fought to live through each day, and here she sat, useless. He roared at her then, demanded to know what to do. How to help his people. To soothe the winds that stalked them, always. To save his people from this harsh existence. The sun beat down into the canyon as he waited, but still she stared into the distance, the stone offering no answer. Something hardened in his chest, the power there burning hotter. A steely resolve rose, smoothing his face to match hers. She was nothing. They were not her people, the Gerudo were never hers. They were his.

A hundred years his people had waited for the promised male child. A hundred years they had eked out a miserable existence, praying for their king to arrive. Ganondorf came into the world in the dead of night under the sign of Din, her stars burning bright in the sky. His first breath signaled his mothers last, his first moments in this world beginning with her end. Any born under such signs would bear a mark, in Ganon it was a darkness. He laughed and played with his sisters like any other child did, but always a malevolent power burned in his chest. He was given to the Twin Rova, who honed that power until it blazed inside of him, burning brighter than any they'd ever seen.

He vowed to use it now. He would be the one to change his people's fate. Nabooru, of course, argued against any drastic measures. He knew now why the serene expression of the Sand Goddess had seemed so familiar. He'd seen it every day on the face of his second in command. The tribes elders claimed she had an old soul, and even Ganon had to admit that while she had shown no talent for magic, she had an otherness about her, an ancient light that glowed within, so different to the darkness within his own soul. Always she counseled patience, always she opted for the peaceful path. But there could be no more peace. Not while his people barely scraped by.

When they were growing up, he remembered the constant doting of the tribeswomen, their celebration in his very existence. Everything he did was praised, their love fierce and absolute, lavish with their affection. It was the same for all Gerudo children. The desert claimed many young lives, those who survived were cherished above all else. But as he grew, so did the distance maintained by the others. Their love turned slowly to respect and admiration, deference. Any closeness they'd had was slowly eaten away as the weight of his title settled over his shoulders, growing heavier with every passing year.

Nabooru still strode among them as a sister, basking in the casual familiarity denied him. He learned to swallow his jealousy, adding it to the fuel of the flame burning inside. He gathered the most able of the others to him, gritting his teeth that Nabooru was always ahead of the rest. For all her prowess, she was weak. Too long had she wasted her mercy on their prey. With her skills, she could have devastated her targets. Instead, she was like a ghost on the sands, a lone wolf in the night; in and out with no one the wiser. She stole so little that more often than not they didn't even realise they'd been robbed.

He vowed, then and there, that his raids would be different. When he descended on the Hylians, all would know his name.


	2. Chapter 2

Chaper Two

The moon shone down bright on the sands, lighting the desert in silver. Ganon's raiders, led by Aveil, spread among many small fires, roasting the leever and roks they'd slain on the way. He listened to their banter, boasting of their feats, showing each other trinkets and trophies and sharing the stories behind each. It was nonsense, really. Each tribeswoman already knew everything about the other, triumphs and failures, hopes and dreams. There were no secrets among the clan.

He sat removed from the rest. He was not here as their brother, or their friend. This was the moment he'd been waiting for, the moment his rule truly began. Everything in his life had been in preparation for this. He closed his eyes and felt the dark magic pulse in his veins, a feral smile splitting his face. The waiting was finally over.

He drew a sharpening stone down the length of his greatsword once more, admired the edge. He stood, strode over to where the others gathered. They quieted at his approach, standing at attention. "Sisters!" He called over the roar of the flames, "Tomorrow the Hylians will cross the bridge, into their lands, and think themselves safe. The same Hylian dogs who dared to cross our sands without leaving tribute. The same scum who slight us while their carts sag with their plunder. Tomorrow. We will take what's ours!" The women all hollered into the night, blades drawn, smiles gleaming in the firelight, Amber eyes glinting.

The Gerudo ninja knew no equal among the sad excuse for a military Hyrule possessed. Too many years of peace and had made them fat, lazy and arrogant. It was time to bring the fear of death that the Gerudo faced every day to these swine in shining armor. "We will not take the paltry tithe they have already refused us. We will take it all. We are on this ridge because Nabooru is weak." His voice lashed out, and the women grew still. He must tread carefully here. He was their only Brother, their King. But she was their favored sister, and would have been their leader if Ganon had not been male.

He saw them mutter to each other, their hands tighten on their blades till the knuckles went white. Their eyes looked down or away, but none spoke up for her. Good. He softened his voice again before continuing. "She is a rare desert flower, beautiful and delicate, her petals soft. Merciful. Kind." He let his tone darken once more. "But come the scorching sun such flowers will burn away. Come the Night frost, they will expire. These are not traits that the desert will allow to survive, a luxury we cannot afford." As he spoke, he let his power well up within him, sent it out ever so gently with his words. His magic washed against them,stoked their rage. Their faces hardened, their eyes gained a savage glint not present before.

This was the gift Koume and Koutake had trained him in. While all the Gerudo slaved in the arts combat, he had training with the tribes most feared members. For four centuries the sorceresses had guided the tribe, sharing their mystic arts. How to see what others could not, to disappear in plain view. To those most gifted few, they taught to conjure ice even in the scorching sun, fire in the grip of the night frost. But Ganons dark gift was what they had waited for. He was the first to be deemed a worthy heir to their darkest teachings, destined to be more powerful than both of them combined.

"We must be harsh, as our lands are harsh." He continued, revelling in the effect of his spell. "We must show strength, not kindness. Hyrule must never lose it's fear of our power, our cunning, our will. Tomorrow we strike as the leever, hidden until our prey stands over us unaware. We strike hard, we strike fast. Pity not these fools who've known nothing of hardship. Spare no one, as neither do the sands!" The Gerudo all raised their blades, howling into the wind. Moonlight glinting off their steel, their eyes alight with anticipation, feral, cat like smiles on their faces. Ganon laughed deep and full, knowing that nothing would be the same from this moment forward. Across Hyrule those sensitive to such things felt a shiver crawl up their spines. The darker creatures of the world crawled out of their crags and caves, snuffing at the air, scenting the delicate wash of power cresting out over the plains.

In a far away castle, the Queen of Hyrule clutched her stomach, and chuckled. "Daphnes, Our little girl kicks like a mule." She caressed her growing belly, a warm smile spreading over her face as she whispered to it. "You'll be a strong one, won't you my darling Zelda?" Her bodyguard however, stiffened, hand drifting to her dagger. The queen looked up, instantly alert. "Impa?"

" I'ts... nothing, your grace," she said, relaxing her stance, casting a critical eye out the window, listening intently for any abnormality. Castle town was peaceful and quiet, Hyrule field beyond gleamed silver beneath a full moon. Still she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, hunted, the hairs on the back of her neck standing tall.

However the ebb of power affected the rest of Hyrule though, no one felt more uneasy than Lieutenant Targan Raulin. Ever since they entered the desert he felt his doom closing in. The Knight Captain whistled as he rode his courser at the head of the caravan without a care in the world. Targan had felt uneasy the moment they entered the sands. They skirted through the wastes, following the ancient map to the ruins. He'd thought digging for the strange blue stones was as eerie as it was going to get – digging through the remnants of some ancient civilization, sifting through the sands full of beached bone and strange contraptions was not his idea of fun. But it was only after they had refused to pay tribute at the Sandgoddess way-shrine that Targan truly felt like there was a demon at his back. He swore he could feel its jaws slowly close around his throat, an icy dread crawling up his spine despite the heat. He resisted the urge to look back, he'd already done so many times, earning him a round of teasing from the other men. Instead he clutched at the goddess medallion that hung under his tunic. Over and over he went through a round of prayers to Din for courage, Nayru to shield him through the day, and Farore's winds to carry him safely home.

Even as the wheels of the wagons rumbled over the canyon bridge his unease plagued him. He couldn't wait to see the grasslands of his homeland, but he didn't think he'd feel safe until the walls of Castle Town rose around him. One more bend and They'd leave this red barren hell behind them.

Stunted grasses and shrubs lined the edges of the pass now, dried reeds that had misguidedly taken root here. The river at the floor of the canyon could offer no hope though, leaving them brown and dead. Still, it was a welcome sign.

He couldn't bear to wait any longer; he set his heels to his horse, urging it forward.

He'd just reached the fifth wagon from the front when the world went dark. A wall of sand exploded up from the ground, sending the horses into a panic. The soldiers tried to reign them in as they bucked and whinnied, wagons slamming into each other as their horses bolted every which way. In seconds the organized caravan was in chaos, wagons piled up on each other in the narrow canyon.

As quickly as it had hit, the sand cleared, the howl of wind died to an eerie silence. The men coughed and groaned as they pulled themselves to their feet, The knight captain bellowing for the soldiers to regroup and calm the horses. The men scrambled to catch them as captain shouted nonstop, waving his arms about like a buffoon. But to Targan, all was silent. The moment the sand cleared he had seen it. A black figure in the pass ahead, cloaked in a dark energy. Targan's breath caught as time seemed to slow further, his triforce medallion burning cold and heavy against his chest as the figure slowly rose into the air.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter three

Targan stared, transfixed, as the dark figure's power surged across the canyon. A low hiss filled his ears as the sand in the valley flowed toward the figure. Still the others seemed to be oblivious, fussing around the wagons, checking the wheels. Targan tried to warn them, to move, to scream. But all he could do was stare, transfixed, as the figure rose from the ground, cloak billowing, a low laugh echoing throughout the canyon. Finally the rest of the platoon seemed to notice figure that now loomed over them all.

"Hylian Dogs!" His voiced lashed out like a whip, paralyzing the platoon to a man. "You dare trespass on our lands, and insult us further at our shrines?"

"Wh- Who are you?" The guard captain stammered.

"I am Ganondorf! King of thieves!" his voice boomed across the canyon, "But to you, I am simply your demise."

Gerudo erupted from the ground, blades flashing, half the platoon dead at their feet in seconds. Daggers drew across throats, slipped between ribs through gaps in armor. The sand at Targa's feet heaved as a Gerudo surged from the ground. She floated before him like an avenging angel, time crawling. The reed she'd been breathing through fell from her mouth as it split in a feral smile. Her weapons slashed through the air with excruciating slowness, the light trailing down the curved edge of her blade as it closed on his throat.

His sword was in his hand before he knew what happened, shield raised high over head of its own will. A shock ran down his arms like a kick from an ox and he looked, incredulous, at the Gerudo who stared him in the eyes. In a flash her twin scimitars skittered off his shield, whipping around again in a blur, raining down on him fast and heavy, his own lashing out to turn her strikes. "At last one of them has teeth!" she cried, bringing both down with all the force of an angry god. Targan's sword fell from his grip, thudding to the ground. Her eyes flashed in triumph, her muscles bunching as she prepared to strike. He lashed out with his shield, slamming the heavy steel into her, knocking her back long enough to dive for his blade. "Enough, Aveil. This one mustn't be harmed." Ganondorf said, striding casually forward. With a flick of his wrist he sent a bolt of dark magic at Targan.

Targan screamed, back arching, a strangled gasp tearing from his throat as his muscles spasmed. His sword and shield thudded to the sand. Aveil snarled, muslces bunched, breath coming heavy eyes wild with bloodlust. A second longer she remained, poised to strike, before finally lowering her weapons. She stalked away, spouting obscenities as Ganondorf examined his new captive.

"It is the rare man who can stand even a moment against a Gerudo. Rarer still that Aveil herself could have trouble finding your heart with her blade." Ganon said, circling Targan. He stopped abruptly, wrenching Targan's helmet off of his head, eyes widening slightly as he took in Targan's dark skin and blood red eyes. Freed from the helmet, his white hair fell about his face messily. "Ahh. Now I understand." He laughed, the other Gerudo gethering to see what the commotion was about. "How far have you fallen from grace Sheikah, to stand amongst these curs?" Targan strained against the magic that held him, snarling with effort, and managed to spit. Faster than lightning, a dagger materialized at his throat. A single drop of blood ran down the blade, Aveil straining with effort, but unable to draw it across his throat for the kill. Ganon hadn't even blinked. His golden eyes never Left Targan's. "Aveil. This one. Mustn't. Be. Harmed."

The canyon grew cold, the air shimmered, a shadow taking shape behind Aveil as a whispereing hiss filled their ears. Aveil trembled, going pale Sweat beaeded her forehead, her eyes wide. A gnarled, blackened hand gripped her arm. Another ran its deathly touch down her cheek."F-forgive me!" She cried. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, the blade fell from his throat, and she crumpled to the ground, motionless.

The Great Poe was barely visible, a shroud in tattered rags, bright eyes from within its deep cowl. It rattled it's lantern, and resumed its hissing whisper, the Gerudo bowing their heads or dropping to one knee. Only Ganon remained standing, looking unimpressed.

Shiekah by their nature were in tune with magic, but seeing a poe in the daylight was supposed to be impossible. It rattled it's lantern and hissed once more, trailing a cold dead hand across Targan's face, and faded away. The canyon grew warm again but Targan still remained frozen. Ganon turned to the asembled women, barking orders for them to get about sorting the caravan to return to their fortress. "Tell me Shiekah." Ganon asked, turning back to his hapless prisoner. Do you know why you live?" Targan couldn't speak, so he settled for a defiant stare. Ganon ripped Targan's wallet from his belt and held it up. It was made of finest dodongo, but was flat. Ganon pulled the string and turned it upside down. Not a single rupee fell out. "Your captain ordered no tribute to be made to the 'savages of the wastes.' Yet you emptied your entire purse at the way shrine. We don't need money, Shiekah. Money will not keep a Gerudo child warm through the nightly freeze. Money will not grow wood for a fire. Your people spurn trade with mine, what use could we have for these." He called, speaking more to the assembled Gerudo than to Targan.

"Yet. You honored our customs, and for that our spirits of the valley have watched over you. Could you felt them, Goddess-steward, or have the Shadow-folk truly become so base?"

"You will deliver a message to your King for me. Ganondorf, King of the Gerudo will no longer tolerate any slight. We will not scrape by on the pathetic leavings their kind chooses to leave us, nor tolerate any incursion into these lands." Ganon's golden eyes bored into Targan's. "No Hylian who sets foot in this desert will leave it unscathed," he growled. "Now. Begone, You've important tidings to deliver."

Ganon turned and strode away, another wave of Ganon's hand and Targan's eyes rolled back in his head, the world going black.


End file.
